


Faith Facade

by rachhell



Category: South Park
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Craig, Closeted Character, Cocaine, Consensual Kink, Crisis of Faith, Derogatory Language, Dirty Talk, Drunk Sex, Face Slapping, Gay Panic, Homophobia, Hook-Up, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, One Night Stands, Politics, Prostitution, Recreational Drug Use, Religion, Rough Sex, Sexuality Crisis, Smut, Top Tweek, What's the opposite of a slow burn?, a crash and burn?, get rekt craig, imp tweek (but not really), sex scandal, that's this fic, tweek and kenny are roommates, youth pastor craig
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-26 17:45:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14407230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachhell/pseuds/rachhell
Summary: What was supposed to be an anonymous, one-time hookup caused Pastor Craig Tucker's entire world to come crashing down around him.





	Faith Facade

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prequel, and eventual sequel, to my fic Gay for God that I wrote for the Drabble Bomb in February. I couldn't stop thinking about what series of events led up to Tweek hooking up with a famous, homophobic preacher on Halloween night, and what would happen after Craig's forced outing, so I decided that I'd have to write it!
> 
> Warning: drunk/high sex in future chapters; it's consensual from both parties but they ARE pretty fucked up. Lots of drug use, homophobia, probably going to be Problematic (tm) in general.

Five beers, three shots, the vodka cran he was nursing right then, a few lines earlier in the night, and a sufficient amount of key bumps to keep it going, to make Tweek feel like he’d drank about half that much - combined, it was enough to make him feel a sort of near-invincibility, the kind of cocky, self-assured confidence that made him decidedly _not_ -himself. Any twitches or tics or spasms had a valid explanation, any of his personal idiosyncrasies that he would typically try to stuff deep down inside were fine-good-great totally okay to show and let out because it was fucking _Halloween._

It was okay, even if the person he was becoming - the _creature_ , rather, perhaps; because, with devil horns atop his head, and his tight, red vinyl pants and glittering wings resting on bare shoulders, that extended far enough on either side of his body to knock into those who dared to get in his way, he felt untouchably inhuman - was someone he both didn’t particularly care for, and someone who was closer to that animal-subconscious, true- _fucking-_ self than he’d ever care to admit.

It was fuckin’ _devils’ night_ and here he was, dressed appropriately, revved up, fucked up, and going absolutely nowhere except around the same rooms of the same club with the same roommate he saw every single day.

He _was_ having fun; you couldn’t be out on Halloween all fucked up on blow and booze and _not_ have fun. It just could’ve been _more._ The music was good enough, pretty close to what they’d play where Tweek would want to spend his evening. The drinks were on special, and his dealer didn’t fuck him over with some baking-soda-bullshit this time, so he had _that_ going for him. The location itself was his issue. By anyone’s standards, the club was awesome; scantily-clad, beautiful women in tiny outfits that barely passed for Halloween costumes were everywhere, writhing and grinding against glassy-eyed men, against each other - probably more for the amusement of said glassy-eyed men than out of any desire for one another - or, draped across barstools, couches, and tables while bright, colorful lights flashed and danced in time with the music, casting their glow upon varying shades of flesh.

Kenny was in absolute heaven, taking in the sights of the bar with his blown pupils and twitching lips and clenched jaw, occasionally stopping to say hello to one woman or another, most of which regarded him with polite disinterest. Tweek, on the other hand, didn’t give a flying _fuck_ about any of that, because he wanted one thing that night, more than anything else, and every single man in this bar except for him - and Kenny, but he’d be damned if he was going to make _that_ mistake a fourth time - was very obviously straight.

The nearest person on Grindr who he hadn’t already fucked, or who he knew he’d never want to fuck, or who wasn’t his roommate standing right next to him, was 2 miles away. And Tom, 35, 2 miles away with a completely unremarkable profile description about being discreet, was a torso. Well, mostly torso - the photo showed him from the lips downward, cutting off at the logo-emblazoned waistband of black underpants. It was, at least, a hot torso - neither too built, nor extremely skinny, with olive skin, and dark, pert nipples and a trail hair that increased in thickness and darkness as it led down to… well, nothing Tweek could see thanks to Grindr’s bullshit guidelines of not showing bulge, but he’d like to imagine that there’d be a hand there, maybe, gripping the outline of a thick cock through what Tweek was positive were the sort of slutty black briefs he totally loved and _fucking hell_ he needed to get _laid_.

If Tom, 35, 2 miles away was a bot, Tweek supposed he would’ve already received a transparently scammy message. Being that they’d been at that particular club for going on three hours, and his phone hadn’t lit up with anything other than some snaps from Bebe and Kyle, and a “hey” from a 58-year-old bear, he figured maybe the dude was legit.

He had nothing to lose if it was fake, after all. He could block and delete and move the fuck on with his life, ditch Kenny and go to a _real_ bar where he fit _in,_ or, hell, even take Kenny with and pick up some dumb twinks but… screw it. The guy’s lips were what did him in, what _made_ him send the message. Turned up in the faintest hint of a smile, they were full and beautiful, and not only could he just imagine those lips wrapped wetly around him, there was something playful in that tiny smile that made Tweek tap,

_Pretty mouth :) hows ur night_

Tom, 35, 2 miles away replied immediately. Somebody bumped into Tweek and said something about getting the fuck out of the way but he didn’t care at all; he was grinning his grinding teeth at the response, which was real and specific and _fuck_ yes it was an actual person.

 _Beautiful eyes and everything else.  
_ _Nothing special. Yours?_

_Good it’s Halloween!!!! Out with my roomie_

_What did you dress up as?_

_Wouldn’t u like to know_

_I would.  
_ _Drinking tonight?_

_lmao a little bit ;) whars up with you handsome_

_Nm. At home. Looking for some fun.  
_ _You looking?_

Oh  _hell_ yes. There it was, straight and to the point, no bullshit, exactly what he was hoping for.

_Im having fun already… think you can show me a better time?_

_I’d like to try. You top?_

 

_Vers but hell yea love to_

_Into rough sex?_

_Fucj yea_

_Good. Me too._

 

 _Where are u  
_ _Oh you said @home wheres home_

 

The screen lit up with another response that Tweek didn’t get to read. He jumped, ready to spin around and slap a bitch when he felt someone pinch his ass… but it was just his roommate. Of _course_ it was, the creepy fucker.

“Whooooo are you texting?” Kenny peered over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of his phone, only for Tweek to hit the lock button, blacking out his screen. “Don’t tell me you’re cruising on Halloween.”

“Fuck off!” Tweek snapped. His phone didn’t quite fit in the tiny pocket of his pants - he was pretty sure they were girl pants, or something, but whatever, they were from a thrift store and he'd probably never wear them again after tonight - so, he settled on shoving it into his waistband, jerking away from Kenny when that bastard tried to reach his grabby paw down there.

“Come _on,_ dude, this was supposed to be our night,” whined Kenny.

“Well _you_ keep dragging me to, ugh, to straight bars so what the fuck else am I supposed to do here, man? Don’t even play me right now about, ngh, _cruising,_ Ken, like you haven’t been trying to find some-”  Tweek held up his hand, finger outstretched, as he took a moment to finish the rest of his vodka cranberry, watery with melted ice. He smacked his lips, twitching. “Jesus! Trying to find some chick to take home all night, and-”

“And striking out. Striking out _all_ night, bro.” Kenny shot him a disdainful look, and started off toward the bar, jerking his head for Tweek to follow, and practically shouting over the music. “You can take me to a gay bar, I don’t care. Ya know I like keepin’ my options open, but I really just wanted to find a girl tonight, y’know?”

“Kinda like how I -” Tweek snatched two test-tube shots from the tray of the girl next to him, who was wearing lingerie and mouse ears, and slipped a ten-dollar-bill into her apron, handing one to Kenny. They bumped them together as best they could in an awkward cheers, before knocking them back. It tasted sickly sweet, the acrid burn of alcohol only noticeable a few moments after ingestion. Tweek shivered when the warmth of liquor hit his chest. “ _Nnghh._ Kinda how I wanna fuck someone, like, wanna fuck a _man,_ because that’s who I _fuck,_ and you’re taking me to these bars where there are, nngh, _no_ men _,_ and like… and, Christ, your costume sucks ass! At least fuck, fucking try,” Tweek said, digging his phone out of his pants and unlocking it with a press of his thumb.

 _2 miles from wherever you are ;)_ lit up his screen.

He typed back, _mb u could use company. Stayin home on halloween must be lonely_

“What, I’m an angel,” Kenny said, motioning to the halo and wings he’d tossed on atop his jeans and sweatshirt, “The angel to your demon. Shit, do people think we’re a couple? Or just, like, they always think we’re brothers, are we gonna go with that one tonight?” Kenny nudged Tweek in the side, with his elbow. “Girls love when they think I’m out with my gay brother.”

 _Don’t really celebrate,_ replied Tom, _but wouldn’t turn down some company if you’re game_

Tweek pulled a face at him. “We’re not gonna _go_ with anything because I’m gonna go get this - agh, dude, what the fuck!”

Kenny had caught him off guard, while his grip on his phone was slack, and wrestled it away from him. He shoved Tweek off of him with a heave of his shoulders as he scrolled through their conversation, and tapped back to check out Tom’s profile. “Tweek,” Kenny said, smirking, “You’re a fuckin’ idiot.”

“What!” Tweek tried, once more, to snatch the device back, but Kenny was just too damn quick.

“This guy probably isn’t even real,” he chuckled, “You’re gonna get murdered or some shit, dude.”

“Give me my fucking phone back!” Tweek shouted. A couple of girls dressed in… bird costumes? Were those birds or just underwear with wings? tittered at them from their barstools, and Kenny grinned at them before giving in, and pressed Tweek’s phone into his palm. “Thanks, asshole,” said Tweek, annoyed.

“Tom, 35.” Kenny arched his brow. “Dude, don’t do it. He doesn’t even have a face pic.”

“Oh my fucking _god,_ Kenny, fine. I’ll get a goddamn face pic, _okay,_ and I won’t go if he doesn’t send it.”

 _Face pic?_ He tapped, mashing the send button harder than he had to.

It took the guy a minute or so to respond. Tweek did _not_ want to give Kenny, who was looking at him with crossed arms and smug amusement, the satisfaction of not getting a reply; so, when _Promise you won’t save it_ popped up in the message field, Tweek wrinkled his nose at Kenny with a cheeky grin, and replied,

 

_Why_

 

 _I work with the public. Need to be discreet._  
_Normally I would never do this, but you’re really beautiful._  
_Promise me I can trust you?_

 _I won’t save  
_ _I promise_

 _K_  
_I will understand if you don’t want to come over_  
_K here_  
_Sorry_

 

There was nothing in the known universe that could help Tweek comprehend why this guy would apologize for _anything_  because holy fucking _shit,_ was he ever gorgeous. He was dark, scruffy, and serious-looking, with the smallest flecks of grey upon his temples and stormy blue eyes that looked a little sad, maybe, underneath the otherwise solemn expression; and, then, there was that mouth again...  _god_  did Tweek ever want that mouth around his cock.

 

 _What why_  
_Why wouldt i want to_  
_?????_  
_Yr sofuckin hot_  
_Im gonna make u scream_

 __  
_Do it  
_ _Make me yours_

“Here, dick. This is the fucking, hng, the guy, the one I’m gonna go see, happy?”  Tweek thrust his phone in Kenny’s face, the screen too close to the other man’s eyes for him to actually make out any images or texts, so Kenny grabbed it and thumbed through their messages with raised eyebrows and wide, shocked eyes.

“‘You’re so fuckin’ hot, I’m gonna make you scream.’ Oh, shit, dude, ‘Make me yours?’ Christ, Tweek, yeah, get over there.” He passed Tweek’s phone back with another swat on his ass, eliciting an affronted grumble from his roommate,  but pausing, mouth open in thought as he held out his hand again. “Dude! Hold on. Just a second. Lemme see that guy again. He looks familiar as hell,” Kenny said.

He really did, like someone Tweek had seen in a movie, or maybe like a regular at the Harbucks where he worked. Maybe he was the CEO to some corporation, or something, that he’d seen in advertisements, and he couldn’t deny that there was a striking resemblance to one of their friends. Even though Tweek, in fact, knew it wasn’t Stan - he was too _hot,_ and too serious; there was none of the crooked, boyish grin or clear, cheerful eyes that Stan possessed - his mind had a tendency to latch onto wild ideas and run with them, especially when he was a little spun.

“Right? Man, like, I don’t even know. He looks like Stan Marsh, yeah? Oh my god. Is that Stan? If I’m gonna go rail Stan, fucking, agh, that’s a lot of pressure, man, because he’s so, ngh, so hot and he’s so straight and… _guh_!”

Kenny patted him on the back. Even though his speech was almost as fast as Tweek’s that night and his jaw was just as tight, and he was probably just as high, Kenny rarely showed it otherwise, instead maintaining the kind of quiet, albeit casually depraved, rationality he always carried. If anything, drugs just made Kenny even hornier than normal, so Tweek couldn’t wait to get out of there and let Kenny do his thing, with whoever took the bait. “Oh my god, that’s obviously not Stan. He’s, like, with Wendy handing out candy or some bullshit because he’s old and uninteresting,” Kenny said, quickly, “Go pound that guy’s ass, I’m gonna go talk to that chick.”

An address popped up on Tom’s message. Tweek felt a pull of arousal deep in his belly as he texted back that he would be there as soon as he could, and was met with a thumbs-up emoji. Then, the smiling one wearing the sunglasses. Tweek snorted a laugh. Guy was already a dork.

“What chick? There’s chicks like everywhere!” Tweek shouted after him, as Kenny began to back away from the bar, gaze already focused somewhere upon the dance floor.

“The shot girl,” Kenny yelled back, with a rakish grin.

“She’s _working,_ you… _Agh!_ You skeeze. I’ll see you later. Or, ah, tomorrow if it, hah, goes well?” Tweek shoved his phone into the front of his pants and did a quick check to make sure that he still had his card, cash, ID, key, pills and powder shoved into the tiny pockets of those painted-on trousers. He’d wished he had room for some smokes in those pants, because even though he wasn’t a habitual smoker - he could get _cancer_ and _die_ a very painful death and that’d be one more ominous concept upon which he’d fixate and ruminate and he definitely didn’t need another one of _those_ , thank you very much - he did it sometimes, when he was drunk or high. Realizing that he had everything he needed, Tweek began his exit, darting in and out of crowds of costumed bodies, his wings knocking against people’s shoulders and heads along the way.

“Don’t die,” said Kenny, waving his goodbye at Tweek.

“I’m not going to die, I’m taking an Uber,” Tweek yelled over the music, as if that justified everything.

Although the air outside was thin and nippy, Tweek had never been phased by the cold for whatever reason, especially when he was fucked up. It made him snicker to himself, as he pulled up his phone to request his ride, which would be there in 4 minutes, because a demon wouldn’t care about the cold, anyway. He chose his costume well.

And, the guy… who _was_ that guy? Kenny’s comment about him looking familiar stirred up a mild paranoia, because he really, _really_ did, even though neither Kenny nor Tweek could pinpoint why. Tweek didn’t want to fuck around with someone he might _know_ already, that wasn’t his _thing_ because what if they wanted a fucking _relationship_ or something and they got in the way of everything and put all kinds of pressure and expectations on Tweek that he didn’t want, didn’t _need_ that kind of fucking pressure and-

His app dinged and his Uber driver - George, a kind-but-tired-looking older man driving a black Toyota Corolla - pulled up.

Tweek’s heart thumped. Two miles away. It wouldn’t take long, and he supposed that, if he already knew the Grindr guy, he’d find out soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _the cold never bothered me anyway_ \- Tweek, probably.

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, I could update some of the fics I'm already working on, or I could post a new one. That's a good decision.
> 
> Title is from _Holy_ by Pvris.


End file.
